What a Balloon Can Do
by TheMobRapper
Summary: The unfortunate tale of 9-year-old Fritz Smith, the lonely boy who finally finds a friend—but loses her much too quickly. Is there any possibility that he'll ever be happy again? Or is there really something magical about those Freddy Fazbear's Pizza balloons and their small and friendly owner?
1. Chapter 1

**Hoo boy, it's been too long! Hello, FanFiction community! I'm back with a brand-new, never seen before story! By brand new, of course, I mean one that I wrote nearly exactly one year ago (kinda cool), but I've basically re-written it into something a little higher-quality than before. This one is actually pretty good, in my opinion, and that's really something! I enjoyed writing this quite a bit, and it's a pretty unique and awesome story (in all modesty and opinion of moi). Maybe worth noting, maybe not, but I hope to publish all future chapters or all future stories at about this length—2-2.5k—so yeah, expect that. I hope to get the next and final chapter posted within the next week and a half or two, so yeah, expect that too. All right, let's get down to business and onto the story!**

* * *

It was a normal day at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza: busy and bustling with excitement and fun. Some children played the arcade games, others ran around the restaurant in great delight spending arcade tokens and collecting masses of prize tickets, while still others sat with their parents while they ate pizza and watched the animatronics perform on-stage. The restaurant was packed with customers, which made even the bored waitresses, greeters, and janitor wear small grins of happiness. The cooks were kept plenty busy inside the kitchen, and despite the monotonous process of tossing frozen pizzas and wings into the ovens, then passing them off to the servers and placing more frozen goods into the ovens the "chefs" were trapped in, they couldn't help but hum cheerily along with the band. Not because they were keeping track of how much cash would fall into their bank accounts over the week, of course not. Apparently the joy in the air was contagious, no matter the cause.

Yes, everyone was having a grand old time at Freddy's—everyone, that is, except for one boy.

Far back in what was most likely the only unoccupied space in the entire pizzeria, seated at the lone rickety table far away from everything and everyone else, sat a small boy of nine years who went by the bland name of Fritz. Fritz Smith was one of the types of children that look like they simply need to get picked on and mistreated by everyone. He was a runty, scrawny, curly-haired ginger who was blind as a bat without his ridiculously thick rectangular glasses. He was small and pathetic enough that few people ever noticed him, dire or casual situations alike.

Fritz typically spent three to four hours every weekday at Freddy's immediately following the end of his schooldays. Sounds fantastic, doesn't it? It was every child's dream, to spend so much time at the extraordinary pizzeria. If everyone knew about that—and cared about him—then Fritz would be one of the most popular boys in school! But he saw no joy in telling anyone; for the reason he spent so much time at Freddy's was rather upsetting to the boy.

See, both of his parents worked: his mother, as a nurse during the day, and his father, as the night guard for the very restaurant he sat inside right then. His father, Richard, having grown tired of sitting at home all day sleeping, eating leftovers, and watching television, had taken to gambling at the nearby casino. He went hesitantly for the first few days, and stayed for only a few hours at a time, but now he entered the sinful building with gusto, sitting at the circular tables all day long. When he slept Fritz hadn't any idea, but he suspected his father's new alcohol addiction helped him get by. So every morning, right after he dropped Fritz and his brothers—a twelve- and seven-year-old, as well as the three-year-old triplets—off at their designated schools and preschool, Richard took off for the casino, and there he remained until Fritz' school let out.

The triplets' preschool had a daycare program, which they attended, and the older boys—excluding Fritz—all stayed at school late to attend their extracurricular activities and sports practices. And as Fritz had nowhere else to go after school and that Richard received a discount on Freddy Fazbear's Pizza admission tickets, what better deal could arise? So every weekday, at two-thirty in the afternoon, Richard gave his son five dollars (to make sure he kept quiet) and a deathly glare, deposited him at the entrance to the pizzeria, and left, then arrived about four hours later to pick him up again and drove them both home.

Yes, Fritz had few good feelings towards Freddy's, but despite the unseemly memories it gave him it still held a special place in his heart for one specific reason and thanks to one specific character. The first time Fritz experienced the pizzeria was on his eighth birthday. His mother had set up a private party for him, something that didn't come easily or cheap, but she'd somehow managed it, and oh, how he enjoyed it! Words couldn't describe his newfound definition of fun, only the sheer experience gave a proper explanation. His siblings and some cousins had stayed up far past their bedtimes playing arcade games with their unlimited amount of game tokens. The Toys brought him his cake and presents, then led everyone in singing a round of "Happy Birthday." He gorged upon pizza until he felt ready to explode. But the best part was when Toy Foxy presented him with a colorful assortment of shining balloons, then took him to Kid's Cove, where they drew pictures and talked, just the two of them.

When he first met Toy Foxy he was a little . . . nervous around her. She was super tall, and her teeth looked really sharp! But after a while of being around her and talking with her, he began to see her much less frightening. Actually, he found her to be very sweet, with her fuzzy heart-shaped chest, radiant golden eyes, and her voice, which she could make sound either piratey or soft and exuberant. That very night he determined who, out of all the animatronics, was his favorite: Toy Foxy.

One of Fritz' favorite things about her was that despite her kind-of scary appearance, she was really very nice on the inside. Why couldn't everyone be like that, kind on the inside? There were few people in his life that were, and he met plenty of people during his average day, and those average days made him feel rather poorly on the inside. Only Toy Foxy knew how to make him feel better. She never did tons of special things for him, or treated him differently—and that's what always lifted his spirits. Unfortunately, the past week and a half had Kid's Cove's business booming; so much so that Fritz had been completely unable to see his friend during that entire period.

A flash of movement caught his eye and his heart leaped. Not one, but two separate parties were packing up, meaning Kid's Cove would be clearing out! Filled with a sudden burst of excitement and joy he jumped to his feet and hurried over to Toy Foxy's home's entrance, where a steady stream of kids was flowing from the doorway. Odd, he thought. All of these kids are old—way older than the kids that Toy Foxy plays with. It was true; the vixen's playroom was meant for children between the ages of four and twelve. A sign next to the doorway clearly stated so.

"Hey, _Friedrich_!"

Fritz squeaked in surprise, then sighed when he recognized his cousin. "H-hi, Charles," he stuttered nervously. Charles was two years older than he, and had about six inches and fifty pounds on Fritz. "What are you doing?"

Charles rolled his hazel eyes, which always seemed to bear a malicious gleam. "Ugh. My parents are making us leave early because we have to stop at the stupid grocery store, _plus_ we have to take Caleb and Scott home still. Stupid, huh? I'm thirteen! Way old enough to stay here by myself for a single freaking hour, right? Heh, unlike you. Stupid."

 _If only you knew,_ Fritz thought.

"Charlie? Charlie! Let's go! I need to get dinner started soon!" Charles' mother's voice was barely audible in the strident atmosphere.

Charles rolled his eyes again, at no one in particular. "Coming," he hollered back. He turned to leave, then glanced at Fritz. "Hey, _Friedrich_? Make sure those other stupid kids in there to leave something of the Mangle for me. I'm gonna be here again tomorrow, and I don't want to play with more stupid, broken parts."

"Mangle?" Fritz asked, his face scrunched up in confusion.

The older boy sighed. "Don't you know anything? You know, that hands-on robot in the Kiddie Cove?" He was about to say more, but another round of yelling from his parents made him heave a second exaggerated sigh and trudge off into the crowd. "See ya, _Friedrich_."

"W-wait!" Fritz cried after him, stumbling in his direction. What did he mean? Who was the " _Mangle_ " he was talking about? A million questions whirled around in his mind, but Charles was already gone.

With dread gnawing away at his stomach Fritz slowly turned to face the Kid's Cove entrance, where a final few kids were exiting, chatting animatedly. "Man, did you see what that one kid made it do?"

"Oh, yeah, that was _so_ hilarious!"

"Wonder what's gonna happen to it tomorrow."

"So long, Mangle!"

"Pff, if it's even still working next time we're here."

Fritz felt rooted to the floor. What were those kids talking about? Mangle? He had a strong suspicion he knew who they were referring to, but he didn't want to know what had happened that caused a name change. One of the passing older boys shoved him as he passed by, sending him stumbling across the sticky tiled floor, but he managed to stay on his feet. Once all of the kids had left Kid's Cove, Fritz took a few hesitant steps toward it, then decided to brave it and rushed inside. It looked different. Not much so physically, aside from a few dark spots on the floor, but it seemed . . . _darker_. The normally-cheery room now had a more ominous atmosphere about it.

He stepped into the middle of the room and crouched down to examine the dark spots resting on the floor. Curious, he stuck a tentative finger into one of the darker spots, wrinkling his nose at the pungent odor. It felt syrupy and sticky, like oil. It must've been oil—but from what?

Suddenly a loud scraping sound came from behind him, along with a burst of static. He jumped to his feet and turned to see what had startled him, only to find an even more horrifying sight. It was Toy Foxy, but it looked nothing like the Foxy he knew. She was dismantled almost beyond recognition, and Fritz could only tell it was her by her exoskeleton head, which was mostly intact, save for a missing eye and a few wires dangling from behind her ears. The rest of her exoskeleton was gone, exposing an assortment of rods and wiring loosely connected by partially-tightened screws and bolts.

Fritz screamed by instinct, but he immediately regretted doing so, for Toy Foxy's joyous face crumpled into one of pure, indescribable disappointment.

"F-Foxy?" Fritz whispered, trying in vain to stop his limbs from trembling. "Is that you? What happened to you?"

The animatronic didn't seem to hear him. "You, too?" she mumbled, though it seemed like she was more talking to herself. "How could I let this happen? I only wanted to make the children happy, but now they're all so mean to me." Her voice was warbled and glitchy, from sadness or damage Fritz didn't know. "And all the good children . . . They're all scared of me. I can't play with them anymore. I can't make them happy."

"No, n-no!" Fritz said. "I'm not scared of you, Foxy. You're still my very favorite, and you—" Toy Foxy stumbled forwards, cutting him off. "Foxy? What's wrong with you?"

She shook her head slowly, struggling to maintain her balance. "Nothing, nothing, I'm fine. Just . . . just very . . . tired . . ." And with those final scrambled words, punctuated by a terrible groan, she fell face-first onto the floor and, with a resounding metallic clang, moved no more.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Well, there it is, chapter one of What A Balloon Can Do! I hope you all enjoyed it and are as hyped about the next chapter as I am! Let's hope our beloved Toy Foxy is okay. Who knows, maybe a special new character that will come and help out our boy and animatronic in distress will be introduced next time. Who knows? I sure do. Also, thank you all so much for checking out Ladies' Night on Valentine's Day! As of now, it has over 500 views! That number is astonishing to me! Thank you all so much for making that possible! I'll see you all soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter two! I'm actually breaking up this story into three parts, but that's fine. Just more stuff to read, right guys? Stick around 'til the end for some information about this story and the future in general. Enjoy the story!**

Fritz cowered back at the noise, but when the silence returned he hurried over to the fallen vixen's side. "Foxy? Are you okay?" He tugged on one of her ears, willing her to stand again. "Foxy? Foxy!"

"Aw, don't worry, she isn't dead."

Fritz yelped and spun around to face the owner of the new voice, a small animatronic humanoid with a rounded body and short, stubby arms and legs. He wore blue pants, a red-and-white striped shirt, and a matching propeller cap, and in one hand he held a plain sign that said "Balloons!" In his other hand was an enormous yellow balloon with a red stripe in the middle. Fritz had seen him before, waddling about the restaurant greeting the customers and handing out balloons to kids, but he didn't know his name. At least, he assumed it was a he; he was pretty sure it was, though.

The humanoid chuckled and approached the fallen Toy Foxy. "Well, her batteries are, but it's nothing a good charge-up can't fix! Miss Foxy must've had a long day today, and she's very sleepy." He glanced at the bewildered boy and gave him a warm smile. "I'm Balloon Boy. What's your name?"

"Uh, I'm F-Fritz."

"Nice to meet you, Fritz! I like your glasses, by the way." He gave Toy Foxy a quick once-over, then picked her up with a shocking amount of invisible strength and carried her over to the corner in which she used to read stories. He flipped open a small hatch hidden in the ground and pulled out a retractable power cord, then connected it to Foxy. A moment later her eyes lit up, most likely indicating that the charging process was in progress, but she made no further actions, to Fritz' slight disappointment. He watched the small animatronic do all of this with a dumbfounded stare. This was the strangest robot he'd ever met! Balloon Boy was incredibly sweet and kind, and full of surprises.

The said animatronic gave Toy Foxy a quick once-over scan, then dusted off his metallic hands and turned to face Fritz, catching him staring at him. He frowned at the human boy. "What is it, pal? Are these darn pants of mine falling down again? That silly old CEO thinks they're hilarious. They're a joke, all right."

Fritz looked started, then shook his head quickly. "N-no, no, your pants are okay. I . . . It's nothing, I guess." The pizzeria was eerily quiet, the nearly inaudible joyous cries of children foreign. The silence seemed to reverberate around Kid's Cove. "Is Foxy gonna be okay, Balloon Boy?" the boy whispered, fearful of breaking the quiet.

Balloon Boy frowned and looked over at the deactivated vixen. "Well . . . I guess I can't say for sure. She really isn't meant to be handled the way she is, and those kids are tougher and tougher on her every day." He glanced at Fritz and, noticing his stricken expression, quickly added, "But she's lasted this long, hasn't she? Yes, sir, she has, ol' Toy Foxy's a real fighter. Besides, she's an animatronic; if she breaks, we can just fix her right up again good as new! Don't worry about her."

Fritz was comforted some by this, but doubt evidently remained. With only a moment's thought Balloon Boy knew just what to do (man, programming is handy). He threw on his typical contagious grin and approached the boy. "Heeeey," he stretched out the word for emphasis. "I know exactly what you need! What's your favorite color?"

"Uh, b-blue?" Confusion and a bit of excited wonder filled Fritz' eyes.

"What kind of blue? Navy, sapphire, cyan, yale, azure—"

"Azure, I like azure best." In truth it was the only one of those names that he recognized, and all of those strange new words were overwhelming. Nothing against Balloon Boy, of course, but he was only nine years old, and he was focusing on learning fractions and bacteria and not specific shades of blue.

"Ooh, yeah, that's my favorite too."

Much to Fritz' curiosity, Balloon Boy set down his _Balloons!_ sign and began twisting some type of little dial on the metal rod supporting his balloon. After a moment of fiddling with it he turned the balloon upside down, pressed a button on the top of it, and with a hiss and a whoosh, an azure balloon emblazoned with the Freddy Fazbear's Pizza logo was ejected out from the upward-facing end of the rod. "Whoa, that was super cool!" Fritz shouted, snatching the balloon up and turning it around in his hands. "It looks just like the ones Foxy gave me!"

Balloon Boy looked surprised. " _Foxy_ gave you? Are you sure about that? I'm the only one with balloons here, I'm pretty sure."

Fritz shrugged and recounted his eighth birthday party, to which Balloon Boy nodded his head in understanding. "That explains it. I blow up all the balloons here, mainly for birthday parties and decorations, but sometimes I hand a few out." He winked. "To the special ones. But my balloons aren't like other balloons, you know. Mine are _super_ special!" Fritz opened his mouth to ask how, but before he could speak a word Balloon Boy interrupted him. "Ah, ah, ah. It's a secret. But you'll find out soon enough, I promise."

The boy smiled, the first true, happy smile he'd had on his face in months—but it fell away nearly just as quickly as it came when he glanced at his watch. All at once, it seemed, every drop of happiness and excitement drained from his face. This both surprised and concerned Balloon Boy, and he checked his internal clock to see what the time was. 3:32. _What was so awful to Fritz,_ he wondered, _about 3:32?_ "What's wrong, Fritz? Do you have a stomachache?"

Fritz shook his trembling head, slowly at first but picking up speed. "N-no. It's . . . Daddy. Daddy's h-here. I gotta go r-right now."

Balloon Boy chuckled softly and gave him a warm smile. Kids these days, they never wanted to leave the restaurant. Fortunately Balloon Boy was prepared with programming that told him exactly what to say to comfort the child. "Don't you worry, bud. I'll make sure that Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria is still here for you next time you come visit!" But Fritz only seemed to fret more, his lower lip trembling and his breaths came short and erratically. "Oh, and Miss Toy Foxy should be up and running again, good as new and ready to play!" The words of reassurement seemed to go into one of Fritz' ears and right out the other.

He slowly approached Fritz and knelt down to look directly into his glazed, tear-filled eyes. "Fritz, what's wrong? Don't you want to go see your daddy?"

" _No!_ " the youth shouted unexpectedly. His outburst embarrassed himself, and in a quieter tone he repeated, "Not Daddy . . . Not Daddy . . ." He covered his face with his spare hand, the other holding tightly to the balloon given to him a few minutes earlier.

Balloon Boy couldn't make heads or tails of the situation. Out of all of the hundreds, perhaps thousands of children he had met in the past, he couldn't recall a single one that didn't adore their fathers, describing them as superheroes or "the most amazing-est person ever!," not a single one that didn't grin at the mention of _daddy_. "Hey, I know what we can do," he said in a comforting tone, taking the boy by his trembling shoulder. "Let's walk on over to the party room and wait for your daddy—"

" _Who has been waiting for you for an entire eight minutes now!"_

Balloon Boy sighed a mechanical sigh when he recognized the harsh voice from behind him. Quickly recomposing himself, he switched his frown of disappointment back to his typical toothy grin and turned to face Richard Smith, a tall, semi-muscular jerk of a man who wore an unkempt mop of sandy blond hair on his head with his permanent addition of his night guard cap, the once-refined-looking navy blue now turned to a horrendous greenish-gray color due to who knows what substances. His uniform, though he wasn't wearing it at the moment, bore a similar disgusting appearance, and whenever the manager confronted him about the condition of his clothing and told him he needed to keep a "professional appearance about him," Richard would always retort, "What? You think the stupid robots care about how I look? Or some idiot busting into this place needs to see some guy in a clean security jacket to make him realize he's in trouble?," and storm away.

Richard continued his tirade, heeding no attention to the small animatronic standing by and focusing all of his anger upon Fritz, who was trying his hardest not to cower into a ball. "I thought I had made myself completely clear to you: Go sit in that freaking party room—at a table next to the door—at 3:25, no later. And yet somehow, eight minutes past then, you're still sitting over here playing with balloons and a stupid baby robot! You see that thing on your arm, right there? It's called a watch. It wasn't free; I bought it just for you, so you better use the darn thing! You understand?"

Fritz cowered back at the harsh, unrelenting words as if struck, and defensively Balloon Boy stepped between the two humans. "Take it easy, Mr. Smith, or I will have to alert the day guard of—"

"The day guard? Ha! That idiot Fitzgerald isn't half as hard a worker than I am, and we both now that right now he's asleep." He added in a mocking tone, "Or maybe he's crying in his chair again, forever scarred by the haunting night shift he worked for—what was it?—not even an entire week! The baby won't do anything about me either way, too scared to do anything at all!" He gave an obnoxious bark of laughter, causing a few passing families to share uneasy glances with their spouses.

Before Balloon Boy could reply a large blue finger tapped on Richard Smith's shoulder, causing the fuming man to swing around and face its owner. "Hello there, sir," Toy Bonnie said, his programming giving his words an enthusiastic, energetic tone. "Are you this boy's parent or guardian?"

"Father," Richard snarled. "What of it?"

The mechanical rabbit was unfazed by his threatening tone. "A release form must be filled out in order to leave a child above the age of 14 unattended, and children under 14 must be accompanied with a parent or guardian at all times when within grounds."

"I _know_ that, you stupid robot!" Richard interrupted. "Don't you play stupid, I know you have that creepy face-recognizer tech stuff, and I know that you know that I'm the friggin' night guard here. I know all the rules, I know all the regulations, I know the—"

Now it was Toy Bonnie's turn to cut him off. "I have no doubt you are aware of the rules, Mr. Smith, I was simply bringing it to your attention that you may have been inadvertently breaking one of them."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. What are you gonna do, fire me? I'm sure you will, since there isn't a single person out there man enough to do my job. Now back off, I'm getting the heck out of here."

Toy Bonnie gave father and son a farewell wave. "Thank you for visiting Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, and we hope to see you again soon!" He jokingly followed up the recitation with a teasing, "Don't forget your son, sir!" It was clearly meant to be taken as a silly joke, but one with no normal sense of humor, especially in such a fuming state as Richard Smith would apparently interpret otherwise.

Instantly he whirled around, perspiration beading his forehead and an aura of rage surrounding him. "You have got to be kidding me! Do you actually think that I'm as dimwitted as you and your pathetic band mates?" He was very nearly shouting by this point, and more than a few heads were looking in his direction. His face flushed. "Fritz, come on," he said stiffly, "we're leaving now." He took a few steps towards the exit, then turned back to face the two animatronics yet again. "I'll see you demons tonight, and you better enjoy this shift, too, 'cause after this I'll be taking the day shift for a few months. Or are you going to take me in front of all your precious little kiddies?"

He chuckled. "Oh, man, that stupid Fitzgerald kid taking night shift again! I'd kill to watch him try to survive just one shift; I'll bet you he won't live two nights!" He caught a glimpse of Fritz out of the corner of his eye, who was slowly edging away from his father's side. "Fritz!" he yelled, earning a yelp from the boy. "Quit messing around, I've told you, what, three times now? We're getting the heck out of here!" Finally the man stomped through the doors of the restaurant, Fritz following tentatively yet fearfully behind him.

Watching the boy vanish from sight, Balloon Boy sighed in dismay. "That poor kid. We really need to teach Smith a lesson tonight."

Toy Bonnie giggled, a maniacal glint in his eye. "Man, and even if we don't? We'll just go super easy on Fitzgerald! We still gotta play with him a little, just so we don't get bored and stuff, but we won't catch him. Ooh, that'll drive Smith insane!" He burst out laughing, in effect causing several children nearby to laugh with him. Even Balloon Boy had to smile. It felt almost like a responsibility to avenge Fritz' mistreatment by his father, and boy, would it be fun to take it out . . .

 **Author's Note:**

 **A'ight, got that chapter finally squared away—what? Another chapter still to go? Come on, when can I get to my anthro stories? Well, soon enough, I suppose. But I can't wait for those! Anyways, how are you all liking** **What a Balloon Can Do** **so far? Let me know, I'd love to hear from you! I will be uploading the final chapter . . . sometime. This brings up two points that I would like to make. 1) This next chapter will be the final chapter, I promise; no matter how long I have to make it! 2) I will not be including possible release dates with my chapters/stories anymore. Why? I can't always guarantee that I'll have the work done by then, and I don't want to disappoint anyone with lies. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE writing. But I also love writing lyrics, composing songs, designing graphic art, reading, trying to find a job (okay, don't really love that one), all that stuff. My point is that I feel motivation to do specific things are specific times. But never fear! I will keep on turning out stories without monthly silences between each chapter, I promise. And if I do have to I'll let you all know approximately how long and why.**

 **BONUS INFORMATION:**

 **I'm reconsidering my average chapter length. I previously stated it'd be around 2k and 2 1/2k, but I will most likely, beginning next story, increase it to be anywhere between 3k and 4k. I'm not a huge fan of shorter chapters, and I'm sure I'm not alone on that. I do want to apologize for how short this stories chapters are, but shorter chapters are pretty necessary for this story. Okay, enough blabbering from me. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I will see you all later with the finale of this story!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Heeeeeeeeere we go! After way-too-long, the final chapter is here! I guess I don't have much of an excuse for the massive delay, other than college prep, vacationing, video games (have you ever PLAYED Lego Marvel?), and procrastination in general. Sorry. But here it is! Enjoy!**

Fritz nervously followed his father outside; tossing a wistful glance towards the closing doors behind him and wishing he could run right back through them. But for all the comfort his robot friends provided, he knew they couldn't keep his father away, and he knew what the consequences would be for running away. They weren't very pretty, and certainly not worth even an attempt, like he knew most other small children would do. Ah, well. It was twenty hours until his next visit to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, and as bad as those twenty hours might be, he felt certain the wait would be worth it.

Richard went to unlock his Toyota Camry's door, but he fumbled with the keys and accidentally dropped them onto the asphalt. He cursed loudly, causing Fritz to jump and cower back a little. Richard glared at his son. "Pick those up. My back ain't what it used to be, you know! Let's go, I'm hungry!"

As Fritz hurried over to pick up the fallen car keys his father noticed the bright blue balloon clenched tightly in his left hand. Richard accepted the keys, then without warning he snatched away the balloon as well. "Hey!" Fritz cried, taken aback by the sudden unexpected action. "That's my balloon; give it back!"

Richard chuckled evilly. "Oh, ho-ho, you think you're so high and mighty when you got a balloon, huh? Think you can tell me what to do? Where'd you get this? I didn't give you any money today." His nostrils flared, and anger flashed across his face. "Did you steal this? We are going to have a long, hard talk about this after we get home. No son of mine is going to be a thief, 'cause I ain't gonna take that kind of embarrassment. Now you better -"

"I didn't steal it, Daddy! Balloon Boy gave it to me, and he said it's a special balloon, and I gotta wait to find out what the surprise is about it!"

But Richard snarl only curved up into a cruel, nasty grin. "Well, too bad it isn't going to last long enough for you to find out, now, huh?" And with a harsh bark of laughter he twisted the balloon ferociously, intending to burst it. Fritz squeezed his eyes shut and jammed his fingers into his ears, but no explosion came. He tentatively opened his eyes and found his father red-faced and sweaty, straining to pop the balloon but to no avail. He finally passed it back to Fritz after a few seconds, breathing hard. "Well . . . that's . . . some . . . balloon, there . . . son," Richard marveled between heavy breaths. "But I swear . . . I'll . . . pop it . . . if it's . . . the . . . last . . . thing . . . I do . . ."

Richard staggered over to the drivers' door and managed to unlock the vehicle after only a few tries. The instant Fritz clambered inside the car started up, and he hurried to buckle himself in tightly, not completely trusting his father's driving skills. The short ride home was filled with nothing but a thickly pregnant silence, but neither male cared to break it. Ten minutes later the car sputtered into the driveway. Before Fritz even had a chance to unbuckle himself Richard snatched up his balloon again and strode into the backyard, kicking open the wooden gate leading back carelessly and slamming it shut behind him before Fritz could protest, much less follow him.

With a sigh Fritz made to exit the car, but he quickly shut it again and dropped to the floor of the car. Walking arrogantly down the sidewalk towards Fritz was Billy McMartin and his gang of cronies - his school's worst bullies. As Fritz was one of their favorite targets he tried to keep his distance from them whenever he could, which was incredibly difficult.

Fritz couldn't tell if the bullies had seen him or not, but he wanted to make sure that they hadn't and wouldn't. He lay motionless on the sticky, smelly plastic floor covering for several minutes, holding his breath and praying his father didn't call him. Once he was certain Billy and his gang was gone he cautiously cracked open the door and stuck his head out. Seeing that no one was around he slipped out of the car, quietly shut the door, and began to approach the front door to his house when a excruciating shriek filled the air. Fritz jumped and, when he realized the scream had come from the backyard, turned and hesitantly hurried over to the gate his father had walked through a few minutes ago, but quickly realized that he was much too short to reach the latch. He was about to call for Richard, but the gate swung open before he could open his mouth. The steel frame of the gate nearly caught him right in the head, but he took a step back just in time, and it merely scraped his nose a little.

Richard stormed past him, causing him to stumble and lose his footing, but he quickly recovered and, curious as to what his father had been doing in the backyard as well as what had caused him to make such an outburst, poked his head around the gate and peered into the yard. It looked normal: the lush green grass, the busted trampoline that Richard was supposedly going to fix but remained in its broken state as it had been for six months, the various sports equipment strewn about the grass - and over by the dilapidated work shed lay Richard's prized hammer. The one his boss had given to him when he had worked for a construction company - when he was a hard worker and did a wonderful job all the time.

Fritz assumed his father had attempted to burst the balloon by smashing it with the hammer; not exactly recommendable, but it was a creative thought, to give him credit. Fritz winced as he pictured Richard accidentally getting his thumb in the iron head's path, but he had little time to grieve. He was startled suddenly by the sound of a car engine roaring to life. His father's car's engine roaring to life, to be exact. Fritz hurried back out to the front yard just in time to see the ugly brown Camry back up a few feet from its original position in the driveway, then roll forwards - right over Fritz' balloon. He watched in mild interest and much confusion. Why was his father so desperate to destroy the balloon?

Fritz had no doubt the balloon was nothing but a few dirty latex scraps by now, but somehow it still sat peacefully on the driveway with only a light tire mark and a bit of dirt imprinted onto it. Richard was equally shocked, after he'd yanked the keys out of the ignition and leapt out of the vehicle to view his glorious destruction and to revel in his defiant act. But no revelry would be done today, or, at least, not by the man with an ice-cold heart. A small boy of nine years, now, is a different story.

Horribly embarrassed and frustrated beyond belief, Richard captured the balloon once again and marched into the house, Fritz right on his tail, anxious to see what other attempts his father might make on his balloon. As the rest of his children crowded around him to greet him, Richard suddenly had a wicked idea. Little kids can break anything, can't they? They've broken almost everything else. Why not this pathetic little balloon? So with a malicious smile he tossed the balloon out into the midst of the mob of children and let them do their work, ignoring one specific child's pleas. The children screamed with joy and leapt atop their newfound prize, while Richard strolled off to take a shower with his hands casually resting in his pockets and a smug grin on his face.

Fritz, on the other hand, stared at the mob of siblings in despair. As well as he'd seen his balloon take earlier blows, he was certain that it would never stand against a full-on attack from his brothers and sisters. Heck, once he'd seen them decimate a large rock that had originally served as a decoration in the backyard. It was about a foot in diameter and weighed probably eight pounds or so, yet he watched the triplets break it down to a pile of dust and pebbles the size of gravel shards in less than sixty seconds. It was amazing and terrifying at the same time. So he was quite sure that the balloon would be reduced to a shredded latex blob in a matter of seconds, and for a fair reason.

Suddenly, something clicked in his mind. All of the dark thoughts that had filled his mind again simply vanished, as though some positive supernatural force had flushed them all away, and they were being replaced with . . . peace. A strange sense of relaxation and hope washed over him. It was odd. Something was almost restraining him from thinking anything negative. It wasn't keeping him from thinking those negative thoughts and feeling those negative emotions, but he felt so – so good, so content, that he just didn't want to dwell on them. He didn't feel anxious, or paranoid. He felt _good._

And for the remainder of the night that rejuvenating, positive feeling stuck with him, even when his father yelled at him and when Tom, his older brother, chose what show they watched that evening, even though it was supposed to be Fritz' turn to pick. For the first time he could ever remember he enjoyed having dinner with his family and had a nice conversation with his mother; who, despite how exhausted she felt, was determined to spend the rare quality time with her boy.

After dinner he went cheerfully up to bed, whizzed through his homework, and drifted off into a deep, long sleep full of happy dreams with a sense of accomplishment. He awoke the next morning just five minutes before his alarm was set to go off, feeling completely refreshed and ready to seize the day. He ebulliently munched on the bacon and eggs his mother had prepared for him, and the smile on his face couldn't seem to wear off. On his way out the door he was overjoyed to find his balloon – in one piece – lying victoriously on the living room floor. But, oddly enough, for all the emotions he was experiencing, surprise wasn't on the list. He certainly hadn't known that his special balloon would miraculously survive the brawling it underwent, but it was as though he had known.

Fritz left home feeling better than he ever had before, despite the fact that Richard tried his absolute hardest to demean the boy as he drove him to school. With the balloon he had stuffed in his backpack and this newfound positive outlook on the world, Fritz certainly felt on top of the world. And maybe the balloon was even more magic than he thought it was, or maybe it was all just coincidental, but his day was full of unexpected and fantastic surprises. The bullies that routinely tormented Fritz, Billy McMartin and his goons, had been expelled for vandalizing several classrooms; breaking windows, stealing supplies, breaking pencils, tearing up books, the like. Out of the four classrooms they trashed, Fritz' room was one of them. This ended up with him and his classmates receiving an extra long recess, as well as their lessons being taught outside, as the weather was beautiful. He also got to purchase a lunch for the first time in two years. It was pizza day, no less.

When the bell rang a few hours later, Fritz was puzzled to find that his father's Camry was nowhere in sight. He waited half an hour on the bench outside next to the gate. But cars only left the parking lot, never pulled in. And not one of them was a brown Camry. But it all turned out just fine: there was a boy in his class, Danny, whose mother was also late. "She volunteered to help drive a bunch of the kids here to some mini golf place for some popular kid's birthday," he explained. "There's, like, a hundred of them or something."

The two boys hit it off immediately, and when Danny's mother pulled up to the curb twenty minutes later she insisted on giving Fritz a ride. She explained that they had been planning on going to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza and she was more than happy to take him along. "You can call your father when we get there and tell him we brought you here."

The moment they pulled into the parking lot and approached the pizzeria, Fritz broke into a run and eagerly pushed his way through the big glass doors. He had to talk to Balloon Boy again! But the little robot was nowhere in sight. As Fritz looked around the building he noticed that the Kid's Cove was considerably less empty than usual. He hurried over, unsure and a little afraid of what he'd see inside, but when he peeked his head around the corner he couldn't believe his eyes: a fully refurbished Toy Foxy stood in the center of the room, reading to a handful of children around the age of six.

"Foxy! Foxy!" Fritz exclaimed, dashing over to the snowy vixen and grabbing her around the waist. "Wow! Foxy, you look so pretty!"

Toy Foxy giggled and hugged him back, delighted to see the boy again. "Hiya, Fritz! Check me out; nice, huh?" She took a step back and held her arms out, admiring her new exoskeleton.

Fritz hugged her again. "Yeah, but I like you every way, for ever and ever! I just –"

"Hey! No touching the robot!"

Fritz staggered back, startled to hear his father's voice. "Dad? What – what are you doing here?" He hadn't noticed Richard sitting in the little plastic chair until he'd spoken.

Richard sat back down. He was now wearing a new, clean uniform. "The manager put me on the day shift, remember? I've been talking about it for a week!" He straightened his tie. "They put me in here to make sure all of these little _brats_ keep their grubby hands off of the fox. Including _you._ So keep your hands off, and keep them off. Hear?"

"Oh, Richard," Toy Foxy said, putting her hands on her hips. "They told you to make sure I don't get disassembled again, if you don't recall." The security guard's face began to accommodate a cherry-red hue. "I trust Fritz enough to let him hug me. Just like you let all of these other kids do. And stop referring to me as 'the fox,' got it? I have a name, and you know it, so use it!"

"I don't have to do nothing, you're just some machine. You can't tell me how to do my job," Richard mumbled, looking away in embarrassment.

Satisfied, Toy Foxy gave Fritz one last hug, then returned her attention to the other children. "Anyways, then Cinderella pulled out the other glass slipper that she had _all along_ . . ."

Watching from a distance, Balloon Boy smiled as he saw the transformed Fritz smiling and having fun with the other kids, as well as with his animatronic friend. Thanks to his special balloons, enchanted by Marionette, children's unhappiness faded. Not only were the balloons indestructible, but they drained the negative emotions of the bearer and converted them into contrasting emotions. The magic wore off after about a week, but typically only a day was needed.

To Balloon Boy, no job in the world was better than his. Though his official title was Greeter and Balloon Blow-upper (the exact words of the manager), he went around and got to know the kids that came to Freddy Fazbear's. Not all of them liked him, or treated him very nicely, but he found that the easiest way to find kids that were hurting inside were the ones that accepted him. And when he met those kids, he was given the opportunity to give them a balloon, and change their life for the better. No job was greater than that, he decided, as he watched Fritz. "You're welcome, buddy," he whispered.

 **TWO WEEKS LATER**

Two weeks later, Fritz woke up from a very pleasant sleep, feeling as wonderful as always. He sat up and looked out the window at the beautiful, beckoning world outside, and got up to prepare for school. On his way to his closet he stopped at his desk. Atop of a pile of books sat his balloon. It had lost most of its helium and was now about a quarter of its original size. The boy gave it a warm smile. "Thank you . . ."

 **Author's Note:**

 **Well, there you have it, folks. Looks like the Enragement Child we all hate actually does have a heart. I remember last year, when I got the idea for this story, I thought it seemed like a strange, even outlandish idea. I remember thinking, is this a good idea? I mean, Balloon Boy is a character almost nobody likes! I wondered if it was even possible to recreate such a hated character into one with a beautiful heart. Did I accomplish that goal? Let me know! I hope you guys have enjoyed this story as much as I have, and thanks for reading! The next story is another story that uses a more different, strange kind of POV. I can't wait to show it to you all! It's actually one of my favorite stories that I've written.**

 **ALSO: If you guys have any story ideas, tell me! I'm always open to ideas, and I'd love to hear all of your interesting possibilities, and I'll be sure to credit you for any ideas that I may incorporate into a story/make into a story. You can PM it to me or leave it in the review section. Okay, well, that's all I have for you today! Stay awesome, and I'll see all of you amazing people in the next story!**


End file.
